CHAPTER 7: Enhanced Interrogation
Aylin coughed, spitting something warm from the back of her throat. She was still staring up at the ceiling, trying to catch her breath. The sound of something scraping against the floor caught her attention, followed by movement somewhere beside her. Craning her bruised neck as best she could, she locked eyes with Rocinante as he attempted to edge closer, chair and all.
She wriggled her arms, now pinned beneath the back of her chair, the slats uncomfortably digging into her skin. Her mouth opened and closed a few times but no sound followed. Finally her voice came out in a strangled whisper. "Sorry..."
"Lin…" Rocinante inched closer and closer towards her. He had used his devil fruit powers to create a sound bubble around them so that his movements wouldn't send the Don or the Underbosses running back downstairs to continue the torture, though he had no idea how much time would pass before the Don returned. He suspected they didn't have all that long.
He'd also reflected on the fact that it was very possible they wouldn't be leaving the ship alive.
Rocinante coughed, immediately wishing he hadn't as pain shot through his abdomen. Each move he made felt like agony, and it was only doubled by the coughing. Nevertheless, he wanted to be near her.
"Why are you apologizing…? He's…he's the one who did this." He coughed again, wincing in response. "You have nothing to be sorry for. They're the psychopaths."
She gave him a tiny smile that never reached her eyes, and her brow furrowed. He was a good person, she thought. Not like the others involved in the business. A genuinely kindhearted young man who surely must have fallen in with the wrong crowd of people, and she felt responsible for this mess. It had been her job to lead the mission. She should have known better. Should have anticipated a trap. Should have seen something, anything, that would have indicated they were in danger before it was too late.
Aylin let out a long breath that ended in a wheeze. Her throat still burned, raw, as though she had swallowed shards of glass. It was almost enough to make her forget about her ribs momentarily. She blinked, noting the blood trickling down both sides of his face, the cuts and gashes marring his forehead, before turning her head to stare back at the ceiling.
She swallowed thickly. "We have to find a way out of this...that sick son of a bitch...this isn't over. It can't be..."
Rocinante nodded numbly, his head hanging down. As soon as her gaze was directly elsewhere, he turned his eyes to her. He felt his chest ache with each labored breath she took. They were both nursing cracked ribs, and Rocinante thought they would probably be nursing a few more by the end of the evening. The Don was a cruel man, just as his reputation had described.
Rocinante couldn't help feeling bothered by the fact that Aylin appeared to be blaming herself for their current situation. He wished that he could shoulder some of the burden. As far as he was concerned, there was no way she could have known what would happen. He wished that he could spare her even a second of the pain she was in, wanting to take it all on himself.
"Lin," he said after a moment, "we will. We will find a way out. I've gotten out of worse scrapes than this…trust me. We'll figure it out!" He gave her the biggest grin he could manage without hurting too badly.
Aylin managed a hoarse chuckle. "Worse than being trapped in Don Fettuccine's cargo hold and about to be tortured to death? I don't know, this is pretty tough to beat."
"You'd be surprised…" A brief flash of a memory entered his mind. A crowd holding weapons and yelling at three figures pinned to a stone wall, arms spread wide as they were being jeered at and tortured. The tear-stained face of a man who only wanted his children to know a life of kindness and humanity. The shouts of an enraged boy, his sociopathic nature driving him a step closer toward the tyrant he would one day become...
His face was so solemn in that moment that Aylin was actually taken aback, and she thought that he was right; she probably would be surprised...especially given the fact that she still didn't know him all that well, even as close as they had become. There they were, trapped like rats, about to die and what they knew about each other's personal lives could barely fill a thimble.
'What a terrible way for friends to die,' she thought to herself.
It was probably what prompted her admission in the moments that followed.
Her eyes remained trained on the ceiling, absently counting the cobwebs strung about here and there. Her voice dropped to barely above a whisper as she said, "I have a daughter, you know... There are...still things I have to do. Things I have to make right. No matter what...dying right here in this hellhole is not an option."
There was a sharp intake of breath from the man. "You…you do? A daughter…Lin, that's…" He paused for a moment, stunned by her confession. A million questions popped into his head, but instead he just said, "Tell me…tell me about her. Please?"
Aylin met his eyes once more, a small smile on her lips as she witnessed his reaction. She swallowed, willing the burn in her throat to subside, but she could feel it swelling as she passed air back and forth. "Well, I...I haven't seen her since she was five years old. A lot could have changed since then...but even as a little squirt, she was always smart. I know everyone thinks they have the smartest kid, but mine is definitely a sharp one. Had a snappy reply for almost everything. Perfected the eye-roll at two years old...heh. She'll be eleven this year..." She let out a sigh, unable to keep the regret from bleeding into her words. "I've missed so much. I'm sure she probably hates me. No-good mom who's never around." She gave a half-hearted laugh. "Couldn't blame her for it, really."
"Lin…no. Don't…don't say that. No one hates their own mother. She…she probably you just as much as you Ms. her." He just listened to the sound of their ragged breaths in the otherwise silent air for a minute or two. He felt happy and sad at the same time. She was confiding in him, and about something that she no doubt found extremely painful. She'd only brought it up now that they were on the brink of death, but he couldn't help but feel pleased and even honored that she'd told him.
Aylin couldn't meet his eyes, though she could very well imagine how they must look. Sympathetic and full of pain for her own situation. Those eyes that were ready to forgive anything, to believe the best of her and she wasn't so sure that she deserved that much.
"This isn't a life I ever want to expose her to," she explained. "That's why I..." She trailed off all of a sudden, closing her eyes as if to stave off a wave of unbidden emotion, bittersweet memories and longing. She swallowed again. "I left her. I had to. I can't...risk anyone finding out about her. I don't know what they would do, or how they might use her against me..."
Rocinante listened to every word, nodding along and making a noise of agreement. Another small silence passed between them until he said, "Then…you did the right thing. What you did was putting her first. She may not understand, or maybe she does…she might be mad…kids can be irrational, but so can adults. Whatever the reason, you did the right thing. I…I bet you sacrificed everything for her. That's why you're here, isn't it?" He felt fresh tears pricking at his eyes upon this realization, and he continued to speak even as his voice wavered, "And you probably don't get any recognition from the outside world for it, but you know…it was a brave thing to do. A hard thing to do…"
He could definitely appreciate that kind of sacrifice. His own parents, although present in his life until their untimely deaths, had made a huge sacrifice because they wanted their children to see the world as it truly was, and for all of them to become better people. Rocinante grimaced at the fact that they'd only been half successful, but that half would definitely try as hard as it could to bring about equilibrium.
Meanwhile Aylin had said nothing, only giving him the barest hint of a nod. She had kept so much of her own life a secret for so long that in a way, it felt a relief to finally confide in someone else. Still, she was certainly no hero or martyr.
The next time she spoke, she made a point to steer the conversation elsewhere. "And what about you...? Why are you really here?"
Rocinante felt his throat turn dry. Of course she would ask about that. But how could he tell her? Compared to her reason for working in the black market, his might sound like a simple thirst for revenge. It wasn't…but how could she know that? Would she trust his word enough to know he wasn't really just out for revenge and wasn't simply exaggerating? And if he told her, he'd have to tell her about the deaths of his parents. So many painful memories, so many holes in his life that he'd only just learned to live with.
He bit his lip, holding his breath for a few seconds before letting it out long and slow. What if these were their last hours, even moments alive together? Telling her wouldn't really hurt, nor would it change anything.
"I'm…on a mission. It's personal. There's someone I need to stop, no matter what the cost…my br—"
Rocinante was abruptly cut off by the sound of someone descending the stairs again. He didn't know how much time had passed since their first beating, but it seemed like the Don was making good on his word to come back and continue the torture after dinner.
"Shit," he muttered under his breath as the figure got closer. The door was flung open and the sandpapery laugh started up again, the Don's tall and thin shadow falling over the two in the dim lighting of the hold.
"I trust you're both comfortable," the Don said with a smirk. "Looks like you've had plenty of time to REST and reconsider…"
Aylin's mouth became a thin line, unable to ignore the feeling of her heart sinking in her chest. She spared one last, lingering glance at Rocinante. If he was afraid at all, he didn't show it. She had to admire that about him, at least...for as compassionate as he could be, he was more than capable of holding his own in a tough situation. She was a little surprised to find herself drawing some strength from that steadfastness of his.
With some effort, she lifted her head enough to see over the seat of the chair that had been obscuring her view of the Don. "I don't know about that. I do have a few complaints regarding the manner in which you treat your guests."
The Don chuckled sinisterly. "I'll be sure to have a word with my staff. Now…have the two of you thought about the questions I asked earlier? Are you feeling a little more willing to comply now? Hmmm?" The man moved imperceptibly fast, an illusion his devil fruit powers helped perpetuate. He flicked open a butterfly knife, pressing it firmly beneath Aylin's chin. "Let's continue our little chat, shall we?"
Aylin glowered back at him, feeling the cold metal against her flesh. She wanted to tell him exactly where he could stick that knife, but that wouldn't aid in buying her and Rocinante any extra time. And they needed that time to think, to figure out a means of escape. He had sounded so confident when he'd proclaimed they would find a way out of their predicament, and she had to wonder if he really believed that or if he was just trying to make her feel better.
Either way, it couldn't hurt to trust him a little.
After a long pause, she replied in a bold tone, "I forgot the question."
A low hiss echoed in the hold as the Don yanked the knife away from Aylin's chin, leaving a deep red mark there. He began flipping the butterfly knife open and closed with swift, fluid movements. He walked around the two of them in a wide circle then ended up standing over Rocinante.
"Well, allow me to jog your memory." He flipped the knife a few more times before stabbing it straight into Rocinante's thigh.
Rocinante gasped, the pain taking his breath away. He gritted his teeth to keep from crying out, but the Don only slithered over him with that freakish power of his and then began twisting the knife in short bursts. Rocinante let out a pained grunt, sweat beading on his forehead as he tried hard not to writhe and make things worse.
The Don appeared unsatisfied. "Hmm, I'm hearing a lot of noise, but no real answers. What do you say, Ms. Wild?"
Aylin's face was a mask of horror. She'd expected the Don to hurt her, but she'd clearly underestimated him. Her eyes frantically moved from Rocinante's face to the knife slowly carving up his leg. He was strong, she knew that, but still she couldn't stop herself from yelling out, "Stop! He doesn't know anything!"
"Oh really? Because his silence seems awfully suspicious to me. I think you both know a hell of a lot more than you're letting on. My patience is beginning to wear thin…"
The Don yanked the knife from where it was embedded in Rocinante's leg, flinging the blood off and then wiping the blade on the larger man's shirt. He flipped the knife a few times and then snapped it shut, tossing it across the room like a child who was tired of an old toy. He began flattening himself again, more slowly this time as if to make sure they could see it. It was a strange sight to behold; a human making himself so thin that he appeared cartoonish and made of paper.
In that snake-like way, the papery form of the Don slithered beneath and around Rocinante, capturing him in an anaconda-like grasp. "I noticed those broken ribs of yours. I think perhaps you'd like a matching set…"
Aylin clenched her teeth, straining against the rope bonds. Even if she told him what she knew of his shipment, she doubted he would believe her. He wasn't planning on letting them live, anyway. All she could do was try to stall him.
The Don tightened his hold and there was another muffled crack. Rocinante was making a valiant effort to remain stoic, but she could tell by the way his eyes were squeezed shut and his jaw was set that he was in a lot of pain.
How much longer could this go on?
She shut her eyes and grimaced before yelling out, "Okay! Stop! I'll tell you whatever you want to know!"
The Don was instantly at her side, a self-satisfied smirk pasted across his face. He was rubbing his hands together, flattening them out in that freakish way, the same way they had been in the first torture session he had put them through.
"Had a change of heart, did you? Let's hope you've got some good intel, lest at least one of you leave in pieces…" He stepped behind her and effortlessly pulled her chair upright in one swift motion. Then he leaned over, breathing down her neck as he held a flat hand on each side of her head. "Well, let's hear it, Ms. Wild…"
Aylin stared straight ahead, trying to ignore the threat of impending brutality. "Your shipment. It was stolen by the group of mercs we hired to help us retrieve it. We put a price on their heads afterward and had them hunted down like animals. I imagine your cargo is sitting at the bottom of the ocean with the fish right now..."
The Don snorted in disgust. "Well isn't that lovely, the company that I TRUST with all my shipments sees fit to just SHOOT DOWN THE MEN WHO STOLE MY MERCHANDISE. You know I have my guns custom made, don't you? You KNOW I have people that I had to LET DOWN because of your little MERC MISHAP. No honor among thieves, surely, but THAT'S NOT THE WAY I RUN MY FAMILY…"
The Don began pacing, his flat hands folded behind his back. "I've already told you a refund isn't sufficient…so what else does the Blackburn Syndicate plan to do to make up for this? HMMMMM?" One second he was behind her and the next, his flattened head had slithered over her shoulder as he slid down to the floor like a long piece of ribbon. He sprang back up just as quickly, striking up like a snake and smashing her head between his hands.
Aylin felt an explosion of pain upon impact. It rattled her entire body. It left her ears ringing and her world spinning.
"NO!" Rocinante managed to yell from his spot on the floor, but he was unable to do anything to help. It seemed like more of him was broken than not, and this was definitely not the easy open-and-shut schmoozing mission that the Syndicate had thought it would be.
Aylin had wanted the Don's attention, and now that she had it, she was determined to keep him away from her partner. So she replied, "You want five-star treatment? Order weapons from a legitimate company. People don't do business with us because of our reputation for stellar customer service." She eyed him through blurred vision and managed a scornful smirk. "We're the black fucking market, you origami idiot."
The Don froze. "WHAT DID YOU CALL ME? Listen here, you little bitch, you know damn good and well that the organization I run is just as 'legitimate' as your damned black market! We're ALL illegal according to all those high ranking NOBLES in the world," he sneered, spitting the word 'nobles' as if it were a bitter fruit.
He spun on one leg, the other whipping out like a long wet noodle and becoming longer and longer until he was satisfied with its length. Kicking the long leg forward, he wrapped it tightly around her neck and then lifted her off the ground, curling his body inward as he did so, winding tighter and tighter in preparation for his next attack.
"I would rather die a thousand deaths, I would rather sleep with the fishes, I would rather EAT THE SAND AT THE BOTTOM OF THE OCEAN before I did business with a 'LEGITIMATE' company run by those pompous, arrogant, sneering, greedy, uppity FOOLS!"
In one swift motion, the Don uncoiled himself, flinging Aylin across the room and sending her crashing against the wall. A loud 'crack' echoed throughout the room as he did so. Part of the chair she was strapped to splintered upon impact. Her head bounced against the floor as she landed sideways in a heap, her equilibrium shaken from all the spinning.
"HA! With that flashy name I gave the Syndicate over the phone, I thought that surely they would send their best. Instead I get this weak, mismatched pair. Hohoho, but their bones crack just like any other…" He cracked his knuckles for affect as he began advancing toward Aylin's prone body.
Rocinante moaned weakly from behind him, but all he could really do was turn his head and watch helplessly. His fingers twitched, trying to get some kind of grip on the floor so he could push himself up to no avail. The sound of his labored breathing filled the air as the Don wound up another attack on his female counterpart.
From across the room just then came a light rapping on the door of the hold. After an annoyed "WHAT?!" from the Don, the door opened just enough for Anelli to poke her head inside.
"Don Fettuccine, my deepest apologies for interrupting, but...Orzo is on your den den mushi and he says there's a, err...situation in Soba. He insists that it's urgent."
The Don snarled in a feral manner, the flattened form he was currently in giving his appearance an even more inhuman look. He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, and his body appeared to inflate back to that of his normal emaciated form.
"This better be more like LIFE OR DEATH rather than URGENT in order to interrupt one of my 'meetings'…" He exited the room, slamming the door shut so hard that the hinges rattled, and muffled echoes of his voice yelling something about an heir could be heard as he ascended the stairs to the deck.
A silence fell over the hold once more.
Aylin coughed, still trying to catch her breath after it had been knocked clean out of her. She spat another mouthful of blood. The Don would be back eventually, be it a few minutes or a couple of hours. If they were going to do something, the time to act was now.
With a grunt, she began to slowly wriggle out of the broken chair; its legs had broken off during the Don's enraged attack, allowing the binds to become loose. The task was exhausting in her current state, but finally her shoulder hit the floor one last time and she was able to roll herself away from her splintered prison.
She had to get them out of there. This had been her responsibility. She couldn't fail. Aylin tried again to reach for the pouch on her thigh, twisting her body to a painful degree, doing her best to ignore it as her fingers groped the leather.
"Shit...almost got it..." Her cracked ribs protested, but she persisted, managing to work two fingers inside the bag and grasp the cold metal inside. She withdrew it rather clumsily, dropping it onto the floor with a gasp, though she was able to grab it up again and began to inch her way toward Rocinante nearby.
Rocinante's eyes focused on the red-haired woman wriggling her way toward him. "Lin…no, no. If you're free, you should…" He paused to cough. "You should get out of here, don't worry about me…" He knew damn well she would never leave him there alone, but he felt he should still give her the option. When she ignored him in favor of continuing her task, he gave her a weak smile. "You're so stubborn, Lin…but you know, I bet you'll be the reason that we…survive this…"
She still said nothing, instead saving all of her energy for the action. Aylin rolled herself behind him and immediately set to work sawing at the ropes that held him to the chair. It was a few minutes before his binds finally fell to the floor, allowing him to roll away from the chair as best he could.
Aylin followed after him. "Hang on...I'll get the other ones off you..."
After a few more strained minutes, Rocinante was finally free of all the ropes and managed to sit upright, carefully folding his legs. He took the knife from her and began sawing at the ropes that bound her.
In a low voice, he said, "I'm activating my calm spell on both of us now. As soon as you're free, we'll be able to hobble off of this damn ship and back to our own before anyone's the wiser…"
Rocinante's mind roiled with anxiety. This couldn't be the end of the line for him; there were still so many things he had to do. And he couldn't let Aylin die either, not now that he knew she had a daughter whom she was providing for back home. A daughter she'd given up everything for.
This had to work. They'd been caught off guard, which had led to their current state, but the Don wasn't the only one with powers…
Aylin didn't feel any different once he'd used his ability to silence the both of them, though she did notice a moment later that nothing either of them did made a single sound. She still felt his hands tugging at the rope binding her wrists together, but couldn't hear the knife cutting through them.
Just a few moments longer and they would be free. The Don hadn't even bothered to lock their cell door behind him, so it was just a matter of sneaking past his subordinates. She felt a swell of hope...
...which died an instant later when she and Rocinante picked up the sounds of footsteps approaching from the stairwell. Both their heads snapped toward the door, each muttering an unheard curse under their breath.
Voices drifted into the room from outside.
"...don't even really want to go in the first place," a female voice was complaining, as if setting foot in a torture chamber was mundane as a trip to the market. "He throws the most boring dinner parties and my girls don't even like that rude boy of his to begin with! You've seen the way Pici picks on Rotelle!"
The eye roll was audible in Penne's voice. "You know it's not like we can say no. We're all in this 'family' together, remember? At least you've got your own children and you don't have to constantly babysit the Don's heir…"
The sound of a hand touching the door was heard, but after grasping at the knob, the owner of the hand paused.
"Don't look at me like that Anelli, you know the reason I don't have any kids of my own. You know damn good and well."
They heard Anelli huff as she replied, "I do, of course I do. But that was a long time ago. You know mother would want you to be happy..."
"A long time ago? Tch! To me, the pain feels fresh every day. I'm never going to be happy. I've accepted that; it's my lot in life." His hand gripped the doorknob more tightly.
Anelli's voice sounded softer. "Brother..." After a moment, she seemed to give up and change the subject. "Well, luckily you've still got me. And your nieces, who you never spend any time with, might I add!"
"I'll spend time with them when we get back! I told you I don't have much time since I'm constantly babysitting HIS child…"
"I've heard that before," she said, a remark that was met with a scoff. "Now come on, let's get this over with so we can go back to our dinner. Surely they're already dead. I don't hear any groaning in there."
Penne's hand dropped away from the door as it creaked open, and the two of them walked inside. "We can only hope they're dead…too bad we got stuck going down here. By the time we get back up to the galley, the old bastard will have thrown all the food on the floor…"
Anelli hummed in agreement and crossed her arms, taking stock of the picture before her. "Hmm. They might really be dead. Maybe you should go and make sure..."
Aylin and Rocinante lay across from each other, having hit the floor the moment they heard Penne's hand at the door and thankful for the fact that even their unsteady wheezing had been silenced. Aylin's eyes discreetly darted sideways, carefully monitoring the mobsters before she stared into her partner's eyes, soundlessly mouthing the words, "Not yet."
Penne snorted as he made his way to the cell. "Bossy as ever, sis…huh, look, the old man didn't even lock the door this time. I guess he was pretty confidant he'd beaten them to within an inch of their lives."
The underboss chuckled darkly as he stepped inside, surveying the mayhem and splintered wood. The Don had surely done some good work here today; he surveyed the two figures on the floor, prone, and for a moment he really thought they might be dead. But upon further inspection, their chests were moving up and down in short, weak breaths.
Still, it was about as quiet as death. How odd.
Penne peered down at Rocinante, leaning closer to him and then reared his foot back to deliver a swift kick to the man's ribs. Rocinante immediately cringed and his mouth opened in a gasp but nothing, not even a peep, came out. Even his movement didn't make any noise.
"What the HELL?" Penne was about to turn around to face his sister when he felt a strong hand wrap around his ankle and yank him to the ground.
"Penne!" Anelli shouted in surprise as she watched her twin fall.
"OW!" Penne's head bounced off the wood as the silent Rocinante took the upper hand. The man grinned down at Penne as he lifted his hand, snapping his fingers once and uttering a single word that Penne couldn't hear.
Anelli took a moment to gape in bewilderment as every sound around them seemed to disappear completely; the creaking floorboards above, the muffled waves from outside, even the voices of a few Rigatoni above that she'd completely tuned out until then.
Suddenly realization hit her as she cried out, "A devil fruit user, I see! Well, that little trick won't be helping you much! GET UP, PENNE! I don't know how he got untied, but we need to fix this before the Don comes back!" She marched into the cell and without hesitation, she aimed a swift kick at the blond man's kneecap. But just before she could land the hit, something knocked her planted foot out from under her and with a gasp, she found herself hitting the floor.
Aylin rolled away after the attack, searching for the knife nearby. She'd wouldn't be of much use until she could get free. Where the hell had it slid off to amidst the panic?
Penne groaned, having fallen on top of his sheathed sword. The hard wood of the scabbard pressed into his leg, which was already beginning to bruise. He scrambled to his feet, reaching for the hilt, but Rocinante tripped him again with his outrageously long limbs and yanked the sword away from its place on Penne's belt.
"YOU ASSHOLE!" Penne lunged for him, only to hit the floor as one of Rocinante's large feet kicked him back.
Rocinante dangled the sword above the mobster's head. He was such a large man that the weapon looked like a stick in his hand. "Hey…this is pretty nice! Did you have this custom made?"
"You're making small talk in the middle of a fight? ANELLI!" Penne yelled for his twin to come and back him up.
Anelli rolled over and leapt to her feet, shooting her brother an angry glare. "Oh, honestly! He's just one big oaf!"
Her hands momentarily vanished into the long trench coat she wore, and when they reappeared she was holding two long daggers, both blades curved in the shape of an 'S'. The Don would likely be angry that they had taken the liberty of harming his hostage, but if she didn't do something then things were about to spiral out of control.
"Although," she continued, "it seems like we've underestimated them after all! Still got some fight left in you, is that right?" Twirling the daggers fluidly with nimble fingers, she twisted her body and struck, quick as a serpent.
"ARGH!" Rocinante felt the sting of both blades as they sank into his hip, although he managed to twist out of the way in time to avoid any major injuries.
Anelli did not let up; the moment she regained her footing, she pivoted and threw herself into the next assault, forcing the tall blond to continue evading the strikes, waiting for an opening. His only advantage at that point was his height, which made it difficult for Anelli to land any critical hits.
Still, each move sent a fresh wave of pain through Rocinante's body as strikes and stabs peppered his long legs, and he knew it wouldn't be long before her twin rejoined the fight. He had to keep them occupied; Aylin was still tied up and needed more time. It was the only thing that prevented him from collapsing. Every injury that had been inflicted on him during the past few hours felt like exquisite agony, and he surmised it was pure adrenaline keeping him standing now.
Penne growled from behind him, finding his footing, though still unarmed as the tall man had kept ahold of his custom weapon. He made eye contact with his twin, and Anelli's face split into a grin as they began moving in tandem; in a way that almost looked like a dance. Rocinante let his guard down for a split second, which was more than long enough for Penne to hoist his sister upwards in a spinning aerial attack that knocked the wind out of him.
Penne's sword fell to the ground with a loud, metallic clang, halfway unsheathing as it spun on the wooden floor. The green-haired man was quick to swipe it up in one fluid movement, shoving the scabbard quickly into his belt.
The fight went on this way for another few minutes; Penne and Anelli working together to weaken the tall blond, who did his very best to protect his vitals while his legs continued to become marred with gashes and cuts. He stumbled, out of breath and feeling faint as from blood loss, determined to keep the attention on him. But despite his best intentions, one foot slipped beneath him as he leaned backward to avoid Anelli's spinning blades.
"Ugh! Shit!" He fell flat on his back, and certainly to his doom, eyes shut tightly. Surely they would be on him in half a second… But the sharp sting of Anelli's blades sinking into his body never came. Instead, Penne's foot caught Rocinante's side, and the blond realized all of a sudden that the mobster had tripped over his prone body.
Penne went sailing over Rocinante's head, losing his grip on Anelli, who fell unceremoniously to the floor. Rocinante might have marveled a bit more at the fact that his clumsiness had done him a service for once in his life, had the situation not been so dire.
Meanwhile Aylin was fumbling with the knife, slicing flesh a few times in her haste to cut the ropes. The two mobsters were working together to take down her partner, and although she knew that Rocinante was strong, he was also outnumbered and badly injured. He wouldn't last much longer.
"PENNE!"
There came a loud crack just then. Aylin heard the shrill scream from Anelli and looked up just in time to see Penne crash through the wall and clear into the next room.
Rocinante's leg was extended from his spot, still prone on the floor, having placed a well-timed kick after Penne had gotten up. A pained smile was on Rocinante's face as he lowered his leg and then attempted to right himself before the other man recovered.
He didn't see Anelli reaching for something at her hip.
Aylin's eyes widened just then. Her mouth opened to shout a warning, but no sound escaped. Rocinante's calm spell... She frantically worked to free herself from the fraying ropes, helplessly watching on as Anelli withdrew a firearm and aimed it at the back of Rocinante's head.
Time seemed to slow to a crawl. Anelli had her finger on the trigger. Rocinante was just turning away from the wall.
Aylin felt the last rope snap as her arms sprung free.
Before she could even pause to think, the throwing knife was leaving her hand. It went whizzing across the room, piercing flesh. Blood spattered against the worn wooden wall. The gun immediately fell from Anelli's outstretched hand, her eyes wide in shock as she suddenly struggled to breath around the blade buried in her throat.
The room became eerily quiet, save for the sound of Anelli rasping for breath as she clutched gingerly at the open wound in her neck and struggled to remain standing.
Rocinante stepped back in shock, his head snapping toward Aylin, seeing her arm still outstretched. His mouth fell open as his eyes darted between the two women. Seconds later, Penne came barreling back through the hole in the wall.
"YOU ASSHOLE!" He yelled at Rocinante as he raised his striped blade. He was about to rush the tall man when he realized something was wrong. His eyes traveled to the form of his twin sister, who was starting to sway on her feet.
Penne dropped his sword and rushed to Anelli as she lost all balance. He caught her just before she went crashing to the floor. Eyes wide and full of panic, Penne brushed the hair back from her damp forehead. "Sis…no, no, look, you're going to be alright! Sis, I…"
The blood…she was losing so much blood. It was everywhere, and it only kept coming.
He looked at the blade buried in her neck, wondering if he should dare pull it out. "Anelli…"
Her bulging, frantic eyes met his as she emitted a gurgling wheeze from her damaged airway. "P-Pe...nne..." A white hand gripped Penne's collar, now soaked and stained crimson.
"You're gonna be fine, Anelli…no, no…please stay with me…PLEASE!" He clutched her to his chest desperately as his eyes welled up with tears of grief. She shouldn't go like this.
Not like this…
Aylin was the first one to snap out of her frozen state of shock. She blinked, forcing her gaze away from the siblings. She and Rocinante would only have a few minutes while Penne was distracted. There was no time to dwell on it; if they were to escape, then now was their only chance.
She pushed herself up, quickly reaching for her last knife and freeing her ankles from the final rope that bound her. Staggering to her feet, she quickly hobbled over to her partner, grabbing his sleeve. When he made eye contact, she nodded toward the door and gave his arm an indicative tug. Rocinante followed Aylin as quickly as was possible in his current state. She didn't need to tell him that things were about to get even uglier, and that it would be best if they were gone before Penne sounded the alarm.
Anelli was dying. Rocinante was more than a little shocked that Aylin had acted so quickly to make that judgment call…but if she hadn't, it would have been him lying there in a pool of blood instead.
The escape itself didn't give them much trouble. Making no sound, they were easily able to bypass the Rigatoni standing guard nearby, knocking unconscious a few that stood directly in their path. Aylin seemed to be on autopilot, completely focused on their one single task. They darted off the ship unseen, concealed by the shadows of the night and silenced by Rocinante's devil fruit ability. He gave her furtive glances every so often as they hurried along back to their own ship on the other side of town, though her eyes remained trained on the path ahead.
Once they had arrived back at the place they had docked, he palmed her shoulder to remove the calm spell so that she could give orders to the men waiting on their ship.
The sooner they set sail, the better.
oOo
Back in the hold, the tears had begun to spill from Penne's eyes. He'd already lost so much. Did he have to lose her, too? She wasn't going to last much longer. He gulped thickly, feeling as though his heart was caught in his throat.
"Don't go," he whispered to his twin, feeling selfish and chagrined. She couldn't answer, not with what that WENCH had done to her. "I love you, sis," he choked out as he buried his face in her shoulder. His entire body began to shake with the sobs that came freely.
Anelli's glassy eyes attempted to focus on her brother's trembling form. She blinked slowly, her cheeks gradually losing color as the blood drained from her body. Her words were on the tip of her tongue, but she couldn't speak them. As the seconds ticked by, she became weaker, unable to hold her head up any longer. She slumped against Penne. Eventually her grip on his shirt loosened until finally her hand fell to her side and stilled forevermore.
She was gone.
Penne felt the change immediately; it was as if a piece of him had been torn out, leaving a gaping hole that nothing could ever fill. He continued to cling to her lifeless body, shaking her a bit even as the hole in his heart grew wider and wider.
Things had changed. Changed forever. And there were two little girls back home who were now left without a mother.
He screamed and screamed until he was hoarse, still clinging to the physical part of his sister that was left behind after the life had drained away. Those two responsible would pay…he'd make sure of it. Penne laid Anelli's body gently on one of the surfaces that wasn't littered with frayed rope or splintered bits of wood and closed her eyes with his fingers, removing the blade that had ended her life.
Why hadn't anyone come? Why was it so damned quiet down there?
Rage and grief filling him to the absolute brim, Penne stormed up the stairs to report to the Don.
This wasn't over.